


The Girl Who Cried Wolf

by doctor243



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Decathlon, F/M, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:05:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor243/pseuds/doctor243
Summary: “Sup Loser,” he heard from behind.“MJ!” he grinned, turning around and shutting his locker. She was wearing a black jeans jacket that was littered with pins from protests and cool places she’d gone. Some of them were from different countries, and some of them were from kids that she’d taken care of during her monthly visits to homeless shelters, and she kept those in pristine condition. He could observe her for his entire life and always find something about her that intrigued him, and somehow he was content with that knowledge; yeah, he had it bad.or5 Times MJ says "I love you" to Peter, and 1 time he says it back.





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something that I've been thinking about for a long time, so I hope you enjoy it!!

Peter knew that he had a crush on MJ. Ned knew that Peter had a crush on MJ. Heck, the only person who seemed unaware, was probably MJ herself. And chances were that she knew, because she seemed to catch any and everything that happened around school (and perhaps the world). And also because she was Michelle freaking Jones. She who had figured out Spider-Man’s secret identity all by herself, and then didn’t say anything for a whole 2 months. She who had managed to find inconsistencies in a history textbook and gotten the publisher to fix the errors. MJ was a genius, and that was putting it lightly. And she was also  _beautiful._  With that untamed hair and matching personality, narrowed eyes and a smirk that made anyone question their own worth, she wasn’t  _hot_ like a Hollywood star or a supermodel, but she was definitely, undoubtedly, unabashedly  _beautiful._ It was common knowledge that people were either geniuses or lookers – nobody had the best of both worlds, because apparently the universe was fair that way. Well, Michelle Jones had never been one to follow rules.

“Sup Loser,” he heard from behind.

“MJ!” he grinned, turning around and shutting his locker. She was wearing a black jeans jacket that was littered with pins from protests and cool places she’d gone. Some of them were from different countries, and some of them were from kids that she’d taken care of during her monthly visits to homeless shelters, and she kept those in pristine condition. He could observe her for his entire life and always find something about her that intrigued him, and somehow he was content with that knowledge; yeah, he had it bad.

“How was the protest?” He hurriedly asked, falling into step beside her before he was caught staring. He’d wanted to go to that Big Pharma protest with her, but Mr Stark had called him in for a lab day, something about finding chemical applications for the Iron Man suits. She technically hadn’t even told him about it, but since becoming friends, remembering events that she was prone to attend became a lot easier.

“It was good,” she replied, rubbing some sleep from her eyes. “Nothing has changed, obviously, but at least we got our voices heard.”

“I wanted to go too,” he grumbled. “But Mr. Stark called me in to work on some chemical applications for his suits.”

“Well, you  _are_  a chem genius,” she rolled her eyes nonchalantly. Oh dear, he was definitely in love with this girl. Head over heels. His heart was hers, signed, sealed and delivered. “Why’d you wanna go anyways?” She continued. “Don’t normal meds have, like, zero effect on your crazy metabolism?”

“I mean,  _yeah_ ,” he huffed. “That doesn’t make what they’re doing right, y’know?” He hoped to God that he didn’t sound like some self-righteous prick.

“Guys!” Oh thank  _God_  for Ned.

“Ned!” He grinned and reached to do their secret handshake. Ned looked worse for the wear, which was saying something because Peter knew that his handsome Filipino friend hadn’t been the one out late web-slinging.

“‘Sup Nerd?” MJ mused, giving him a hug.

“Oh. My.  _God._ ” Ned groaned. “I barely got 4 hours of sleep because of that frickin’ history paper.”

“Oh,” Peter laughed. “I finished that on Friday.”

“Well excuuuuuuuse me if I’m not a genius and  _happened_  to be busy binging Brooklyn-nine-nine!” He replied indignantly. “And who in their right mind gives people a weekend for  _6 pages_??”

Peter shook his head. How would he survive high school if Ned hadn’t been his anchor and main source of entertainment? Turning to MJ, he started to ask her something, but stopped when he realised all the colour had drained from her face.

“Um…MJ?” He started carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. Of course, in a normal situation, he knew that she was anything but, but this didn’t strike him as a normal situation. “You good there?”

“Um…” She seemed to struggle. “I… I might have forgotten to do the essay…”

“What?!” Ned screeched, hands flying to his hair.

“I was busy prepping for the protest okay??” She argued, eyebrows knitted in frustration, probably already formulating a plan to bribe the teacher, commit murder or call in sick.

“But this is 40 per cent of our grade!”

“Gee, thanks for the reminder, Nerd!” Eyebrow raised, she dared him to remind him any more of her own predicament, and God did she look gorgeous under pressure.

“Um…” Peter interceded, hoping to diffuse any further argument. “You can use my outline.”

His 2 friends looked at him in disbelief, but no words were said, triggering his rambling tendencies.

“WELL, I mean I’ve got some extra quotes that I didn’t use, and I know that you’re a genius so you’ll be able to write it so it doesn’t come out as plagiarism. Not that you, of all people, would plagiarise, but I’ve pretty much outlined the arguments and the necessary facts and highlighted the quotes that I used so you can use the others.” He was sure his face resembled that of a lobster, and his hand was nervously scratching his neck. “I know you probably have a back up plan, and don’t need my help, so I’m gonna shut up n-”

“I love you.”

Peter froze. He could faintly see Ned gaping like a fish in the background. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. The usual mirth and humour was missing, replaced by a vulnerability that he’d never seen in her eyes, not that he tended to stare at her eyes a lot (he did). This was the most earnest she’d ever appeared to him, and it was almost disarming not to see the strong-willed calculating person that he’d grown accustomed to and fallen in love with.

“Wh-what?” Nicely done, Parker, very eloquent. Perfect time for the frog in his mouth to jump into his throat. C’mon, man, say something else. “Really?” Well, that  _was_  something else, but still,  _what the hell?_

“Dude, don’t get an aneurism, it was a joke.”

And as quickly as he’d seen the look in her eyes, it was gone, the usual snarky MJ returned with full force. The mirth was back and the genius stared back at him, smirk playing on her lips.

“Uh-um. Right. Haha,” he forced out as he grinned through clenched teeth, ignoring the way his heart plummeted into his stomach, like an airplane taking an emergency landing. “Of course! Ha…Ha!” Sometimes he wished she wasn’t such a brilliant actor. Sometimes he wished she wasn’t so good at pushing his buttons. Sometimes he wished she wasn’t so goddamn good at everything.

MJ just rolled her eyes. “Outline? You were saying?”

“Right! Right! Here you go!” Dropping his backpack, he hurriedly reached in, pulled out a few crumpled sheets of paper, before stuffing them in MJ’s hands and rushing off, a speechless Ned on his tail.

“Dude!” He whispered, but Peter refused to look at him in the eyes. He couldn’t stand to be looked at with pity. Ned knew of his affection to MJ, and would undoubtedly be trying to offer sympathy. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” he muttered. “Always.”


	2. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea helps colds

“How’d you know where I live?”

Peter scratched his neck as he cowered under the suspicious glare of MJ, who was peeking through the crack of her front door, refusing him entry.

“Um…I’m Spider-man?” He answered nervously. Her eyes narrowed further.

“And you use your genetically enhanced abilities and multi-million-dollar suit to stalk me?”

“What?? No!” _Yes._

“Geez relax, I was kidding,” she sniffed, finally opening the door to reveal her dishevelled hair and Rudolph-the-reindeer nose. With the blanket on her shoulders and the scowl on her face, she looked so positively adorable that he could have wrapped her in a hug there and then. Key word: could have. She’d probably claw his face off and hang it on her front door as a warning to potential huggers. “What’d you come here for anyways?”

“I got some tea for you,” he gulped, reaching into his backpack for that package of tea leaves that he’d swung 20 minutes south for. “After I heard you were sick I-”

“You mean after I texted you,” she interrupted, staring at him straight in the eyes.

“Ok, yeah after you texted m-”

“After you bombed my phone with 23 calls and 317 texts.” Her gaze was unwavering, and very unnerving. _Very._

“I was worried!” He argued. “I’ve never seen you miss school and-”

“While I was asleep.”

Ok, he had nothing. Shifting his weight from leg to leg, he gingerly offered the bag of tea to her, smiling shyly. “I got you a book too,” he tried.

It took her 15 seconds of silence (he counted) before she rolled her eyes, sighed and let him in. He took it as a win.

“What book is it?” She asked, bolting the door and shuffling to the couch, snatching the tea from his outstretched hand and taking a sniff.

“Oh it was this tea book that the lady at the store recommended,” he hurriedly reached into his backpack and pulled it out. “It was on sale and it’s where I knew what tea to buy for a cold. Also the author's name is Mary Jane, but that’s also MJ, so I-”

“That’s my book.”

“Um, I know,” Peter quipped, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “I’m giving it to you.”

“No,” she took a breath. “I wrote that book.” At his bewildered silence, she rolled her eyes. “I’m Mary Jane, okay? I couldn’t very put Michelle Jones as the author of a _tea_ book, or everyone’s gonna think it’s a detective novel.”

Silence.

“You wrote a tea book??” Peter finally squeaked.

“Wow, that’s your takeaway from this?” She rolled her eyes.

“And it’s a bestseller!”

“I’m well aware, thank you very much.”

“Can I have an autograph?”

MJ froze. “Excuse me?” She seemed to glare at him harder and he knew he’d overstepped his boundaries.

“I mean I’m sure if you’ve written one bestseller you’re gonna write many more in the future and since you wrote the book I’m not gonna give it to you, and if I had an autograph I could brag that I was the first to get it.” Yep, he was rambling. Yep, he was digging his hole deeper with every word. So he wisely kept silent, and waited for the storm to pass.

A very tense ten seconds passed before MJ stood up with a huff and grumbled a string of incoherent phrases. He heard the kettle being filled and placed on the stove before he saw MJ return with a sharpie in hand.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered.

This time he froze, eyes wide and heart thumping thunderously in his chest. “Wha-what?” He coughed out.

“I said, ‘you’re lucky I love the tea.’ Now gimme the book.” She replied without missing a beat. The expression on her face was so irritated and bored that he really had to wonder whether he’d heard her wrongly.

“Ri-right,” he stuttered as he shakily handed her the book. This was bad. How was he so in love with her that he was hallucinating her confessions of love? Did that even happen to people? Did he need to get checked?

“Here you go, Loser,” she sighed as she handed it back to him. On the front page was written ‘ _You’re such a loser_ ’, followed by her signature.

“Thanks,” he smiled fondly. That’s was the closest he’d probably ever get to a confession of any sort of affection. “Oh yeah I’ve got some homework for you from Chem and some class notes from History today.” He pulled the respective worksheets from his bag as he stuffed the tea book back in. “Ned says hi, but he couldn’t come cuz he has to help his mum cook.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, taking the stuff from him before plopping on the couch and studying them intently. Even while sick, MJ was still the most diligent person he knew. Goddammit, get a grip, Parker.

“Anyways I’d love to stay and try the tea but I really gotta go,” Peter spoke up, getting up to leave. “Cuz I gotta get some web hours in before dinner tonight.”

“Oh um, ok,” MJ put down the papers, looking a little startled, but otherwise unaffected, before her eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. “Hold up, did you really just say ‘web hours’?”

“Yep see you get well soon bye!!” He chirped and closed the front door behind him. He read the whole book that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I didn't really like this chapter all that much, but I think it still deserved to be published hahaha. Please leave a comment!! Give me feedback, good or bad, what you loved, hated, or wanna see more of!!


	3. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ needs an scapegoat

Things had a way of going exactly as Peter expected it to. Like Aunt May burning the new soup she was trying (who the heck can burn soup??) or Ned being absolutely reliable in every single situation that you needed him (except when Betty Brant was involved, because then priorities change, and Peter understood that). It wasn’t always a good thing, because he _always_ expected cafeteria food to be trash, and he _always_ expected Flash to pick on him at school, and he _always_ expected to be the loser in high school, and he was _always_ right.

Things _also_ had a way of taking him by surprise. Like when Mr Stark picking him up after school for ice cream because “he was in town”. Or when it seemed like a quiet night during patrol, and a gang of weaponised criminals robbed a bank. Or when Aunt May miraculously insisted on keeping the stray puppy that decided to follow him home after a communion of bacon and bread (‘ _look at it, Peter, IT’S EYES ARE SPEAKING TO ME’_ ). Or when he was walking down the hallway and freaking _Michelle Jones_ screamed “BABE!!” and flung herself at him, clinging to his neck like he was her last hope.

“Play along and I’ll make you cookies for a week,” she growled in his ear. “Don’t, and watch me make your life a living hell.”

The colour drained from his face, even as his heart hammered erratically in his chest. While the prospect of cookies was already a good enough incentive, the fear of making MJ his arch-nemesis was far more terrifying, so he didn’t even need a moment’s consideration before he nodded subtly. Seemingly satisfied, she released him and turned around.

“Sorry Jake,” she almost seemed apologetic. “I know what I promised, but I don’t think my _boyfriend_ will be very happy if I don’t take him to prom.”

“Wha-prom??” Peter stuttered, clearly struggling to grasp the situation.

“I know,” MJ sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “But it was before us, I swear!”

“Um-”

“You goddamn bitch!” ‘Jake’ yelled, garnering unwanted attention from surrounding students. “You made a deal.”

Immediately, Peter went on the defensive.

“Whooaaah whoa whoa whoa,” Peter interjected, throwing his hands into the air as he instinctively moved between MJ and Gregor Clegane. “What’s going on?”

“Your _girlfriend_ here promised that I could take her to Prom if I did our science project by myself,” he growled out in reply.

“That was last year!” MJ rolled her eyes.

“A deal is a deal, Jones,” he bit out. “Never took you for a liar.”

“Okay now listen here, Igor,” Peter stepped in.

“What the fuck did you call me?”

“I know you’re still hung up about things that happen in the past,” Peter continued, unperturbed. “But you need to move on if you want to grow! Mind you, you should actually stay off the steroids, it might be hurting your brain.”

“You little shit-”

“But one day I’m sure, Hodor, you’ll come to realise that there’s so much more to life than forcing dates out of pretty girls and bullying people smaller than you.”

“My fucking name’s Jake!!”

“That’s what I said, Wun Wun,” Peter rolled his eyes. “C’mon, stay with me here. I’m trying-”

* * *

 

“I don’t appreciate that you called him Wun Wun,” MJ grumbled as she joined him on the roof of her apartment with an ice pack. The sun was beginning to set, and the orange hues that bathed the city in gold were mesmerising. It was almost a safe spot for the two of them, where they sat above the city, and had some semblance of freedom from a world that perpetually pulled you down.

“What??” Peter exclaimed through a mouthful of cookies. “But he was being a dick!”

“I know, so don’t disrespect one of my favourite characters like that,” MJ smirked, ( _oh that wonderful terrible smirk_ ).

Peter just grinned in response and accepted the ice pack, gingerly placing it on his bruised eye.

“Why didn’t you fight back anyways?” MJ grumbled as she sat next to him and hugged her knees. “You coulda trashed him - you’re fucking Spider-Man.”

“Language,” he warned.

“Okay Captain America,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re _freaking_ Spider-Man. Better?”

“Much,” he grinned cheekily. They sat in a comfortable silence, impeded only by the crunching of the cookies and the distant New York traffic in the streets below them. There was a certain comfort that came with the dissonance of the city, a tiny reminder of life and activity, the promise of happiness and sadness and busyness and everything in between.

“I don’t know,” he said after a while, eyes staring off at the sky that was painted in blue and red and gold. “Probably for the same reason that I don’t fight back when Flash picks on me.”

MJ didn’t say anything, she knew he’d continue in his own time.

“It probably sounds stupid,” he mumbled, grabbing another cookie. “But I mean, fighting fire with fire doesn’t actually work. Nobody became a better person because they got beaten down by someone stronger than them. Most people become bullies _after_ they got bullied anyways.”

MJ shifted to take a cookie as well.

“And anyways,” he took a gulp of milk ( _God Bless you MJ_ ), “if they can’t pick on me, they’ll probably pick on someone who can’t take it, right?”

She didn’t answer, just reached over and took a sip of milk. And then she smiled at him.

It wasn’t a flirtatious smirk or an amused chuckle, just a very simple smile. A pleasantry that said she understood his words, and she appreciated them. A smile that meant so little and so much at the same time. And yet it melted his heart and he yearned to reach over and kiss those beautiful lips, to run his fingers through her gorgeous curls and pull her close to him.

But yet he couldn’t. She never had feelings for him, and she never would. They were best friends, and changing that could ruin everything.

This was fine. This was perfect, in fact. He didn’t _need_ her to love him, as much as he _wanted_ it. He could just love her with his whole heart, and stare at her beautiful face and watch her eyes sparkle with the reflection of the sun. He didn’t need to be happy – he just needed to be content.

“I love you for using Game of Thrones references, though,” she smirked, eyes still pointed to the sky.

And there she went, pulling his heartstrings with the greatest ease. And all he could do was smile back, while his chest ached and throbbed, hoping to the stars that one day, one wonderful and blissful day, she would say it while looking at him square in the eyes, and say it the way he would to her any day. One day.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “I guess we’re going to prom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, but I hope you guys enjoyed it!


	4. Peter

“No.”

“Oh come on, this is gonna be awesome!” Ned laughed, holding up a pamphlet. “Queesnborough Community College Art Show,” he read. “Listed artists: Michelle Jones.” At this he turned to MJ with a cunning smirk. “Yeah, we’re totally going.”

“No,” she repeated. “You’re not.”

“How’d you even get a spot at the art show anyways?” Peter asked through a mouthful of sandwich. “I thought they were only showcasing their own students.”

“I _am_ one of their students,” MJ dropped casually. “I’ve been taking classes with them part time.” She popped another french fry into her mouth before turning the page on Goodnight Mister Tom, seemingly oblivious to the silence that had followed her announcement.

“WHAT?” Ned gushed.

“Oh we’re so going to this show,” Peter decided at the same time.

“How could we not have known?!”

“There’s no way you’re stopping us.”

“I mean we’re your best friends!”

“Even if I have to get Mr. Stark to cover my patrol that night…”

“I’m actually _hurt_ that you didn’t tell us!”

“He might actually come too, if I told him.”

“I feel like we’ve failed as best friends for not knowing everything that happens in your life.”

MJ shut her book with a thud and looked up, effectively silencing them. “No,” she spoke. Such a simple word that held so much weight.

“Okay, okay,” Ned chortled. “We won’t go.”

“Oh, we’re totally going,” Peter argued. “In fact, we have to get the flashiest brightest suits we can find to pretend like we’re important art buyers-”

“Art collectors,” MJ supplied.

“-you know what I meant-”

“And art collectors don’t necessarily wear flashy loud suits to art shows.”

“Still gonna do it,” he grinned deviously.

“The art pieces aren’t even for sale,” she protested. “It’s just an exhibition to showcase the school’s students!”

“Still. Gonna. Do. It.” His grin did not drop.

The defeated sigh that followed made Peter’s grin widen at his victory. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed,” she muttered.

* * *

 “Aunt May I know I said 8:00 on the dot but there was this car chase that I had to stop because there was a lady pushing her baby across the street and I only just got done dealing with the cops and Mr. Stark-”

“Pete,” his aunt interrupted. “Breathe. Do you want to meet me there? I can take a cab down.”

“Oh my heck Aunt May you’re the best I’m so sorry I love you.”

“I love you too, Peter,” she laughed, before hanging up and whistling down a cab.

 _Okay_ , he thought. _Right down Park avenue, turn on 6 th and head straight to Calmac, then turn left. C’mon c’mon c’mon!! _He reached the dumpster where he had hidden his backpack, hastily snatched it up before swinging off into the night again. _C’mon, you’re Spider-Man! Swing faster!_

As he approached his destination, he could see Aunt May getting out of the yellow taxi. Immediately, he landed behind the shrubbery and hastened to changed, almost declaring war on his pants for not cooperating. _First thing this weekend will be a discussion with Mr Stark about making changes between costume and civilian easier. Heckin’ pants._

“Aunt May!!” He called out, still struggling with his sneakers. “Over here!”

“Goodness Peter,” she giggled, turning around. “There’s no need to be _that_ excited. We’ve still got…” she looked down at her watch. 9:20pm. “10 minutes left.”

“Yeah I’m really really sorry!” He took her hand and hurriedly led her inside.

“Oh wow, these kids are really good,” she marvelled, looking around.

“Mmhmm,” Peter replied distractedly. “Aha! There she is! MJ!”

A mess of beautiful curls whipped around to reveal a face that was filled with surprise. “Peter?” She almost whispered in surprise.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he finally stopped, looking up to catch his breath. “There was a huge thing with the police and a baby and-” he looked around. “Ah I’ll explain it to you another time.”

“You came,” she almost smiled, which made Peter grin as his stomach flopped against his rib cage.

“Of course we came!” He beamed. “We came to see amazing art!”

“We?” MJ suddenly looked confused.

“Hey MJ.”

She spun around again to see the tall redhead smiling at her warmly. “Aunt May,” She breathed. “You came too.”

“Of course, sweetie!” She smiled warmly. “This is important to you right?”

“Well…I mean…Um…” MJ struggled out a stutter.

“Oh hush,” May pulled her into a hug, and nobody, not even the seemingly apathetic MJ, could refuse an Aunt May Hug. “We’re all really proud of you. Now why don’t you start showing off to us?”

“Ok,” she mumbled, turning around, but Peter was already staring intently at her paintings.

“Holy crap you did oil paintings?!” He whistled. “This can _not_ be cheap.”

“Yeah I-”

“Dang, these are pretty amazing! Aunt May! Look, it’s Queens! You could see our apartment from here!”

“It’s not-”

“How did you _get_ such detail with oils? I just make a messy blur and call it interpretive art.”

“You-”

“And this one’s Midtown! You even painted the school?? I thought you hated school!”

“I-”

May placed a gentle hand over Peter’s mouth. “Let the poor girl talk, you’re overwhelming her.”

Peter immediately blushed a deep red. He knew how he rambled when he got excited, but _holy moly,_ he had no idea that MJ could paint, and paint so brilliantly at that. Looking at MJ, he noticed that the usually confident girl had a hard time looking him in the eye.

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am.”

They turned to see a staff member smiling at them. Possibly a student worker. Or a really _really_ young professor. “The exhibition will be closing in 5 minutes. Can I help you with anything before we close?”

“Yeah!” Peter chirped. “Is purchase of these art pieces allowed?”

The staff member smiled again, warmly. “Purchase of the art pieces are between you and the artist,” she replied. “The purpose of this exhibition isn’t for the sale of art, but if the artist agrees, who are we to hinder their budding career?” Okay, so definitely a really _really_ young professor then. A really _really_ young professor who seemed _really_ proud of MJ.

“Now, wait just a minut-”

“Aunt May! Can we buy one please?” Peter interrupted, eyes shining.

“Okay, Peter,” she smiled knowingly. She knew how much this meant to MJ, and how much it meant to Peter, but most of all, she knew how much MJ meant to Peter. Mum Instincts. “Just one though, ok?” She warned, as if allowing him to buy candy.

“Peter, you can’t,” MJ protested weakly. “These aren’t any good.”

“What’re you talking about?” He laughed. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best artist in this entire gallery!”

“I’m just a high school kid in a college exhibition,” she mumbled.

“And that’s what makes you amazing,” he replied, and he meant every word. Michelle Jones was an extraordinary person, and she didn’t need superpowers to get there. She just set her heart and mind to it, and she’d get there in a jiffy. Looking at the menu, his eyes settle on one and he _knew._ It was the New York Skyline while the sun was setting, and the streaks of gold, red, orange, and so many other colours burned his soul, and he loved it. It took him back to the previous week, and that little moment they had on her rooftop, where he resigned to love her with his whole heart, even if she never returned those feelings. “This one. I want this one. How much d’ya want for it, Ms Jones?” He teased.

“Nothing.”

He turned around, surprised, before being unexpectedly pulled into a hug, and as he hesitantly placed his arms around her, she whispered, “because I love you.”

He froze. _No way. There’s no way._ But before he could supply either question or answer, she’d pulled away and flicked him on the forehead.

“I’m kidding, loser,” she smirked. Oh, that wonderful terrible smirk that tore him apart and mended him back together again. “It’ll be 50 bucks. Do you have any idea how expensive oil paints are?”

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled shakily, although his heart was shattering all over again, and the pain in his chest threatened to double him over. “Good thing I asked Mr Stark for some cash before coming here.”

“In that case, it’ll be 70.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offence, but she’d already hopped forward and given May a big hug.

“I love you, Aunt May,” she said, distinctively more audibly.

“Aww honey!” cooed May. “I love you too!”

Peter smiled painfully. So it was _that_ sort of love. The familial sort, where one never abandoned another. Not the sort of love he’d hoped, but a good sort anyways. How could he ever hope to capture the attention of a star? How could he wish to pocket that sun and make her his? He’d burn a whole in his hand and deprive the universe of her light. But today, he placed a smile on the sun’s face, and today, that was good enough. 


	6. Peter

Peter knew what danger felt like. He could smell gunpowder 5 miles away, or hear the rapid thumping of a hostage’s heart, which was only slightly different from the man holding the gun. He could feel the air change when a bullet was flying in his direction, and hear a knife slicing through the air (who ever said that you couldn’t physically cut tension?). There were a hundred other factors that contributed to his spidey-sense, half of which he couldn’t point out if he tried. All he knew was that he, more than most people, knew what danger felt like. He knew the varying degrees of danger, from tripping on a curb to an armed robbery to vulture. His spider sense always informed him of things to avoid when approaching danger, or how the severity of the danger.

He’d never felt danger like this.

When he felt the hairs on his arm stand to attention, and looked into the sky to see the flying doughnut of a spaceship, his body froze as his heart hammered against his chest and his gut flopped endlessly like a fish. His spidey-sense screamed at him to ‘ _Run away! Please! Just run away!'_ , but he just couldn't move. He leaned his head against the seat in front of him and breathed shakily. Oh, how he wanted to just stay there, in the yellow bus that was headed for MoMA. Just be normal for once, enjoy a field trip like every other kid in the country.

“Hey Parker, you alright there?”

He slowly turned his head to see MJ looking at him with concern. Well, as much concern as MJ was capable of expressing.

_Mr Stark wouldn’t run._

He took a deep breath and swallowed the bile that had risen up his throat.

_In fact, he’s probably at the center of it right now._

“I need a distraction,” he replied, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

Immediately her head turned to the window and her eyes widened. “Oh shit,” she whispered.

“Ned,” Peter, called out softly, leaning forward in his seat and lightly slapping his sleeping friend. “Hey Ned.”

“Huh?” He looked up drowsily.

“I need a distraction.”

“Oh shit,” Ned gasped, sobering up immediately.

“I literally just said that,” MJ sniffed.

“We’re all gonna die!!!” Ned cried as he rushed to the emergency exit at the back of the bus, while Peter fumbled in his bag for his web shooters and mask. His heartbeat was not slowing and his perspiration was only making it harder to grab anything at all. Where the heck were those _fucking_ web shooters?

“Hey.”

MJ’s gentle hand held his shaking wrist firmly. He wasn't shivering, he was  _shaking._

“You better come back in one piece, you understand?” She threatened lightly.

Peter forced out a laugh. “Why?” He finally pulled the darn devices out of his bag and threw them on. “Scared you’ll miss me?” He turned to the escape window in the middle of the bus, ready to jump.

“Of course, Loser,” she replied softly. “I’m in love with you.”

Peter froze, his hand raised to shoot a web forward. This couldn’t be happening. Not right now. There were too many things at stake and too little time. The herd at the back of the bus wouldn’t have their attention diverted for too long. He needed to go now. He was probably hearing things. _Again_. But she’d said it, clear as day – she was _in_ love with him. Specific. Audible.

“What did you say?”

Well, there went the 30 second window that Ned bought him.

“You heard me, Peter Parker.”

He stared at her, trying his hardest to decipher her expressions, to see if the corner of her cheek twitched before she smirked and told him she was kidding. To see whether she’d roll her eyes and tell him to get out of here. But nothing told him that she was kidding this time, or that he’d heard her wrongly. Then again, Peter had never been the best reader of basic human expressions and intentions, much less MJ’s expressions and intentions.

“Heh,” he finally coughed out, painfully plastering a grin onto his face as he turned away. “Your jokes are getting old, MJ.” He pulled the hatch and let the window slide down with a clank. “You know,” he paused, turning to look at MJ’s blank expression. “You’re really cruel.”

And with that he leapt out of the bus, never looking back, and never _daring_ to. He didn’t care whether some of his classmates might have seen him slip on a red mask and do gymnastics in the air. He didn’t care that he’d definitely regretted every word that escaped his lips. He just didn’t want to see her reaction. Did she know? Was she serious? Was she-? It didn’t matter. Mr Stark needed him – New York City needed him, possibly  _Earth_ needed him, and nothing else mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continuous support guys! I really appreciate it!!


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